


love like ghosts

by storyskein



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Canon Compliant, Come Sharing, Cunnilingus, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fantasy, Fingerfucking, Fucking, Masturbation, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 04, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, and then there's intimacy and fucking, but also happiness, just life is sometimes sad ya know, no one is unduly suffering, there is bellarke content so if that's not your jam then know it, this fic loves clarke bellamy echo and raven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 07:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14075832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyskein/pseuds/storyskein
Summary: bellamy sometimes gets maudlin and sad. echo and raven sometimes cheer him up.





	love like ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'love like ghosts' by lord huron
> 
> this fic loves clarke, bellamy, echo, and raven. <3
> 
> also i wrote this in like an hour and no one beta'd soooooo all mistakes are mine

Most nights, Bellamy doesn’t go to the window. He doesn’t have time. Even with only seven people living on the ship, there’s a shitton of maintenance and cleaning and repairs to do. Echo puts them through their paces every morning, Monty and Raven teach them ag and engineering every afternoon. Then there are evening chores before dinner, and then sleep. Sleep because it’s the easiest way to pass time. And that’s what they’re ultimately up here to do. Pass time. 

But about once a week, Bellamy finds himself at the starboard window, looking down on earth. Monty’s moonshine goes down like diesel, but after three years he’s used to it. 

It’s a bit like church, Bellamy supposes. Going to the window once or twice a week, looking down on the burning Earth, remembering, thinking, hoping. That’s what the Eden tree ceremonies were mainly about, that’s what most religious faith has always seemed to Bellamy to be about. Remembering. Hoping. 

He hopes for Octavia. Hopes that she’s a good leader, that she doesn’t have to make the choices that he and Clarke had to make. That she can rise above them. Do it better. Do it right. 

He hopes for Kane, for Abby, for Indra, that they help his sister. For Miller, that he doesn’t go fucking stir-crazy. For Jaha, that he finds peace. 

Three years in, he’s trained himself pretty well to end the litany there. _Amen._ Or sometimes, _So say we all_ , like from that spaceship show that Harper dug out of the archives that they’ve watched four times. 

_Amen. So say we all._ And bed. 

Some nights, like tonight, his memory presses him. _Further_ , it whispers, _there’s another name out there._ It’s an itch on his skin, it’s heat in his blood. He presses his forehead to the glass, wants it to cool his forehead, to soothe the itch. It’s been over a year since he’s let himself give in to the pity parties that marked his second year--the first year he had been completely shut down. The second year, though, fuck. 

_Clarke is dead_. _The best thing you can do is live_ , Raven once said to him, finding him on the floor, drunk as shit, delirius. _So snap the fuck out of it_. _We need you._ I _need you_. 

The third year, now, the memory of Clarke is softer. Sometimes it’s like she’s right there, he can hear her throaty voice, her laugh. More bitter-sweet, he can see that pained, caged look she had towards the end. Sometimes it’s just a thought, an impression. _Clarke would have laughed at that. Clarke would have found that beautiful._

Tonight, thankfully, is one of the sweeter nights. Bellamy itches for Clarke, for his partner and friend, for the person who knew him better than anyone probably ever would. He feels the poignancy that there was so much unknown and undiscovered between them. 

He’s feeling okay so he lets himself indulge a bit. Takes a sip of the moonshine, and another, and another. Bellamy wants to feel her arms around his neck again, her mouth brushing against the skin of his collar. The way she was so solid in his arms. How in those moments she melted into him. 

And then...it’s too much. 

Fuck. 

He takes a gulp of breath and shakes his head, trying to shake the memories of Clarke from his brain. Forces his gaze out the window. Down there, the earth is nothing but char and, Raven speculates, sand. Debris. That’s reality. And in that reality, Clarke cannot survive. 

Bellamy pivots on his heel, leaving the window, the earth, _Cl--_ behind, swallows the last of his moonshine. He tosses the cup into a dirty dish pail as he crosses the mess hall floor, heading to the quarters. 

Music plays softly from Murphy and Emori’s bunk, and the soft moans from Monty and Harper’s bunk make him smile. They’ve been fighting a lot, hopefully that’s a good sign. 

He knocks on Raven and Echo’s door. It’s almost _their_ door, but he doesn’t sleep there--often. 

Echo answers. Immediately she knows, opens the door and lets him in.

Raven sighs and looks over from her desk, where she’s poring over go-sci schematics to see if she and Monty can make another algae farm work. “I just don’t think the window is good for you anymore," Raven says, blunt as ever. 

“Usually it’s fine,” Bellamy says, gruff, as he sits down to unlace his boots. Space in a tin-can with seven people didn’t allow for things like distance. It took awhile to accept it, but the straight-forward intimacy is relaxing. 

“Want to talk about it?” Echo offers. She’s reclined on their bed, archive-tablet propped on her chest. The first year, he and Raven taught Echo and Emori to read English, and now Echo was a voracious reader with a penchant for Highland Romances an LA Noir mysteries. 

“No, it’s fine.” The small domestic scene he can come home to when he wants unravels the tension in his shoulders, loosens the knot of grief in his gut. And both women wearing nothing but their underwear stirs his cock. But he’s not totally fine yet, and they can tell. 

“Come here, baby,” Echo says, more an order and less a request, setting the tablet on the shelf above their bed. “Let us make you feel good. ” 

Raven stands, her brace already off, and pivots to the bed that’s less than a foot away from the desk. She lays down instantly and stretches. “It’s been a long day, Echo. I think Blake should make _me_ feel good.”

Echo grins. “He can do both.”

“I think both can happen simultaneously,” Bellamy smirks, feeling some of that old self of his return. The cockiness, the playfulness, that he thought had been forever lost. 

“Big talk.” Raven splays out her knees, showing off her white boyshorts with a hint of dampness right over her cunt. “I’ll believe it when I come it.”

Echo rolls her eyes while tossing off her bra, shoving down her own boyshorts. He takes care of his own clothes and watches while Echo undresses Raven, running her mouth along Raven’s exposed tits, stopping to pull Raven’s nipple between her teeth. Bellamy kicks off his pants and starts stroking his cock as Echo’s hands dip into Raven’s underwear, her mouth fastened to Raven’s breast. 

Raven tilts her head back and sighs, body loose and relaxed as Bellamy watches Echo’s fingers circle her clit. 

Bellamy hooks his fingers on Raven’s underwear and tugs them off, replacing the fabric with his mouth. Raven’s back arches as he runs the flat of his tongue along her cunt, pressing hard against her clit, giving her room to move against him. 

Echo had moved her hand to her own pussy, dipping her long fingers into her center and drawing up her arousal. But Bellamy really knows she likes to be eaten out, likes to come all over his and Raven’s mouth, and he’s feeling a little bossy tonight. 

“Go sit on Raven’s face,” he demands. Raven moans her assent, grabbing at her girlfriend and hauling her up. 

Echo settles her knees on the sides of Raven’s face, facing Bellamy, and settles herself right over Raven’s mouth. It’s enough that Bellamy can see as Raven’s tongue gently touches Echo’s swollen clit. Echo gasps and moans, her hips twitching, hands immediately squeezing her breasts. Bellamy knows that she wants to sit fully on Raven’s face, but she has too much control. Echo will torment herself first. 

Bellamy speeds up his attentions on Raven, giving her the full pressure that she likes. She whines into Echo’s cunt, using her hands to grip onto Echo’s ass and move her across her mouth so that Echo’s clit hits her chin. 

Soon, Bellamy feels the sharp tug of Raven’s hand gripping his head. 

“Hold fucking still!” Raven shouts, muffled. Bellamy lets Raven hold him there as she fucks his face, his tongue tasting her iodine, salty arousal. Because he knows that it will drive her over, he fucks two--then three fingers--into her, curling them forward against her. 

“Shit!” Raven’s hips buck and buckle, her whole body rising off the bed as she comes, and as she has a tendency to do--which he fucking loves--she squirts right into his open mouth. He laps it up, greedy, loving her taste. 

“Share,” Echo commands, kneeling above him. Bellamy crawls up to her, fucking his tongue into her mouth, so she can taste too. Echo moans and sinks into his arms, body still taught with arousal but also enjoying her partner’s pleasure. They collapse beside Raven, taking turns kissing her, running their hands along her pleasure-sensitive body. 

“What next?” Raven lifts up on an elbow, her silky dark hair falling over her shoulders. . 

Bellamy reaches up and tugs on her hair. “You recover faster so fast.” 

Raven shrugs and looks pointedly down at his dick. “We made a promise.”

Bellamy hums. “You did. Well, Echo made an offer.” 

“The offer’s still good.” Echo’s eyes sparkle. “You want us to make you feel good?” 

And just like that, Echo straddles his cock and starts sinking down.

“Fuck, Echo,” he moans, his hips bucking up to greet her. She rocks down on him, so tight that she takes him a bit at a time, and jesus fucking christ. Wet and velvety hot and when she finally takes him to the hilt, she just sits there, lingering over the feeling. 

Raven scoots closer next to him, her finger twist and pull his nipple as she rests her head on the crook of his shoulder. Bellamy kisses her forehead and she murmurs, lifts her chin to kiss him back. Then she sits up, and with Echo’s help, straddles Bellamy’s legs behind Echo. 

Her hands roam up and down Echo’s body, squeezing her tits, making her way down to Echo’s low belly. 

The crack of Raven’s hands slapping Echo’s ass echoes through the room. Echo sighs and leans over, her nipples dragging against Bellamy’s chest, her fingernails raking his stomach so that his hips buck.

“Again,” Echo demands. Echo’s cunt twitches around his dick as Raven smacks her again, and again, each time the pussy walls flexing on his cock, each time Echo trying to find a little grind that gives her release. Soon Bellamy is pushing Echo back against him, fucking her on his cock. Raven holds her ass cheeks apart, and caught between them, Echo can’t move, can’t get away, all he feels is her wet cunt slamming down on him as his hips thrust. Raven’s coaching them on, a string of filthy _oh my god, look at you two, Echo look how good you look riding Bellamy’s thick cock like that are you going to come? Hm? Are you going to come on his cock?_

Echo grunts as she comes, cries out low as her hips ride him in ever smaller circles, finding that just-right movement that brings her crashing over. Her orgasm squeezes his dick, and the orgasm unspools in his low belly, and he cants into her, unleashing his come. 

It takes her a moment to slide off him, and when she does, she throws her legs open. “Clean me,” she commands to both of them, sleepily, happily, with feline smile on her face. And he and Raven do, licking a little ruthlessly at her until she swats them. 

The pace slows down, but Bellamy makes Raven come again with his fingers, and she and Echo share his cock again when it deigns to harden once more later in the night. Eventually, they clean up and shower and fall asleep, the Ark humming softly around them. 

Bellamy wakes before both of them, kissing their foreheads as he gathers his clothes to sneak to his own room. He sleeps over some nights, but not many. Truth is the beds are just big enough for two, not for three, and one of the perks of being seven people on the Ark is that he got one of the queen-sized beds in his room. 

He slides under the cool sheets and is halfway to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. The feel of Echo and Raven’s skin is still palpable on his own. His mouth is swollen, and he’s pretty sure both women have beard burn all over their body. 

Just as he’s almost all the way to sleep an image comes to him. Of Clarke, there with them. Not just him and Clarke--that, in his sated-lust-haze is not available to him. But Clarke’s eyes, mischievously peeking out over Raven’s mons as her mouth is fastened on Raven’s clit. Clarke, pulling Echo’s hair as she finger fucks her. He and Clarke, teaming up on both Echo and Raven. 

Just like that, his cock is hard again. And for the first time, he uses Clarke to fantasize, to wonder _what if._ It hurts, some; it’s bittersweet, mostly. In a way, it’s healing, too. He comes once more and it’s almost painful; he catches it in old, ratty boxers he keeps by his bed for the purpose. 

This time, the third time, sleep comes for real. And for the first time in a long time, Bellamy sinks into a dreamless, sweet-dark slumber. 

 


End file.
